Half Jack
by nightchildx
Summary: REWRITE- Here I was- half deaf, tied up & bleeding out all over the damn carpet- If someone had told me six months ago that Adrian Veidt would be the one to personally end my life, I'd have called 'em a liar. Too bad I'm usually wrong. ch 10 up!
1. Thank You For Ruining My Car

**Okay, this is actually a rewrite of what I originally intended to write. I was tired of writing sad stories and switched back to a more humorous genre. Well, I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I really want this to go far. I've put his up here purely for your enjoyment, and mine, so I can't wait to get started!**

**Title: Half Jack**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Here I was- half deaf, tied up & bleeding out all over the damn carpet- If someone had told me six months ago that Adrian Veidt would be the one to personally end my life, I'd have called 'em a liar. Too bad I'm usually wrong.**

**Dedication: To my late brother Nick.**

_Cause I'm only as tall  
>As my heart will let me be<br>And I'm only as small  
>As the world will make me seem<em>

_When the going gets rough  
>And I feel like I may fall<br>I'll look on the brightside  
>I'm roughly six feet tall<em>

~On The Brightside by Never Shout Never

My earliest memory was of a car ride home from the zoo. My grandmother let me sit in the front seat with the window down so I could stick my head out like a dog. I would close my eyes and pretend I was flying, feeling the sun warm my face and the wind unravel my braid. We turned onto my street and Grammy slowed, avoiding a young boy near my age of four who was playing in the street. As we drove by him, I leaned out the window and yelled "Bobby- get your ass out of the road before it gets run over!"

For some reason, that was the first thing I thought of when I felt my head whiplash to the right and the car door crunch like tin-foil into my side and arm. I don't know what possessed me to stick my nose where it didn't belong as a child, and I _definitely_ don't know why I ignored my inner sense of peril and wait just a nanosecond more to drive though the green light.

It was brief- the crash that is. But it only takes one moment for a two-ton luxury car driving at a speed of forty miles per hour to decimate another puny second-hand car moving at a mere six. Sure it was quick, but the damage was done all the same. Even the sound of it was bad from my point of view. Tires screeched; you could practically _hear_ the rubber leaving skid mark on the asphalt. And the metal-to-metal contact? Like thunder in loudspeaker at top volume.

Only eight in the morning and already the headaches had begun.

"Too bad that didn't kill me." I said wryly.

Wincing, I sat up straight to assess the damage. Driver's door had caved in, so my escape route was probably out the passenger's side. I was sure nothing was broken, but _damn,_ did my left arm hurt like a mother. Avoiding pressure on my injury, I managed to wriggle out of my seat and into the passenger side to pop open the door.

I felt strange. Besides the obvious shock of the crash, I noticed the world seemed… muted. I raised a hand to my left ear and snapped my fingers. I barely heard it. Shit on a stick, I'd gone deaf!

"Oh, fuck me!" I groaned, laying my head down into my heads.

"Miss?" I jumped when I heard it. Looking up, I was very nearly blinded from the light radiating from behind the golden figure before me. In my awe, all I could do was stare stupidly at this god-form as he knelt to eye level.

"Are you well, Miss? Can you hear me?"

"I'm good. I can't hear outta one ear, but I'm still good." I smiled grimly. I got a good look at him and was almost as impressed as I was when he first appeared. There was no longer a halo of soft light encircling his head, though one would say his hair was still of a golden hue. "Is that your car that tried to kill me?"

"I'm afraid so." The god-man gently took my face in his hands and stared for a moment. I still couldn't see him very clearly but I could feel the red blossom on my cheeks. "Pupils are normal." He affirmed. "I don't believe you have a concussion, but you should get yourself checked into the hospital immediately."

"Bossy. Who died and made _you_ king?" I pouted. I realized that what I said was bizarre and inappropriate, but I was too out of it to fix my mistake. My balance, probably thrown off because of my ear, started to pitch, and the stranger seemed to pick up on it.

The blonde steadied me and assured me that an ambulance was on the way. I groaned. "This was NOT my fault this time, Mom. I _swear_!" I paused, reflecting upon my choice of words. Laughing weakly, I grinned at the god-man. "Did I just refer to you as my mother?" Another half-hearted laugh that trailed off in to bitter reality. "Maybe I do need to go to the hospital."

I waved an arm at him to dismiss my earlier outbursts. "I'm just gonna sit here so I don't say anything stupid. Again."

But I ignored my own advice and as he started to return to his car, I yelled out "I hope you're insured, Strange Gold-Man, cuz I had the right of way!"

"Could be worse. Could be raining." So much for not saying something stupid.

I swear I saw him smile.

XxXxXxXxX

There was no concussion, the doctor agreed, but he warned me of headaches and falling asleep in odd places. I did actually sustain temporary hearing loss, which would eventually heal itself, and my left arm would be painted a lovely black and blue for a week or so. The good doctor loaded me up with pain meds and an official note to give to work when I went back the next day.

Eventually I gave my statement to the police, in which I learned that the collision was in fact _not_ my fault. An insurmountable wave of relief nearly blew me away. Normally I was never this lucky- if you consider a car accident lucky.

I was eventually released around noon and had to take a cab home. I was actually lucky enough to snag a driver that spoke English as his native language, despite the stereotype.

I came home to find that my apartment had been invaded by little people. Well, they were my neighbor's children, not dwarves. Virgil and Claudia had rearranged my furniture and constructed a fort out of blankets and pillows in the middle of my living room/ foyer. You couldn't even make it to the kitchen without being forced to crawl through.

"Who keeps letting you pests in here?"

A chorus of giggles sounded from somewhere under the blanket ceilings. "Gotta make it out of the maze first!" said Virgil, the youngest. Curse him.

I dropped my purse and ducked inside. "Oh no! how will I ever navigate such labyrinthine tunnels! Only a master could possibly escape this- gotcha!" I cried and snatched Claudia by the ankle.

The pair squealed and came out of hiding. "Amateurs." I shook my head. "When I was your age I could build blanket forts like a boss. The only thing that could've made them better was if I had a minotaur running loose. Or a nice moat."

"Wussa mine-tar?" Claudia asked.

"It's a monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull. It's very old and scary; looks a lot like the landlady."

"Wuh happen to your arm?" Virgil queried. "It's purple."

I shifted a little and cradled my injury. "I got in a car crash this morning." The five-year-old's mouth formed a comical little "O" shape. "But don't worry about it. I'm not hurt too badly."

I pouted my lips, milking the two for sympathy, and I was immediately ensnared by little arms. Mission success.

"Oh, that reminds me."

I made the call to my insurance company which took two hours longer than I hoped. Only twenty minutes out of those two hours was spent talking to a real person; the rest was just staying on hold.

In the duration of the call, the kids had gone back next door for snack time, but only because my fridge was next to empty save for a carton of orange juice and a jar of jalapeños. Feeling shitty, I just bummed around until the six o'clock news came on. I settled on m beaten couch and popped a couple pain pills, listening to the head anchor report the latest developments in Knot-Top activity.

"…And earlier this morning Adrian Veidt was in a car accident around eight A.M. Mr. Veidt and his chauffeur were unharmed by the incident but the second driver involved whose identity has yet to be released, was hospitalized with minor injuries.

In my stupor, I was completely frozen, mouth agape with a glass of orange juice hovering in front of my lips. Was the glowing stranger who tried to annihilate me with a two-ton vehicle one of the most powerful men on the planet?

"Oh my God, I sounded like _such_ a _jackass_!"

At that moment the outside world decided to intervene via phone call.

"Hello?" I said wearily.

"Is this Miss Jack LaBelle?" said the other end.

I sighed inwardly. "This is she. To whom am I speaking?"

My front door opened and Virgil emerged, juice box in hand. He gave me a nod of acknowledgement and proceeded to make himself at home.

"This is Adrian Veidt. I was curious to see how your injuries managing since this morning."

Before I could respond Virgil shouted from across the room, "IS THAT THE GUY WHO HIT YOU THIS MORNING? TELL HIM HE'D BETTER 'POLOGIZE 'R ELSE THE MINOTAUR'LL EAT HIM!"

Silence on his end as well as mine. "…I, uh- that was my neighbor's kid, I'm so sorry." I glared daggers at the intruding kindergartener and hissed: "Virgil, I swear to Godzilla, you had, better shut up!"

"I'm not offended. How old is he?"

"Four. No, five. Virgil, you're five right? Yeah he's five. Smart kid. Steals all my juice boxes though…" Good grief, I was vomiting up nonsense.

"I see." He said pleasantly. "I wish to offer my apologies for the accident this morning, and assure you that I fully intend to pay for the damages and your hospital bill."

"…You're shittin' me." I said, totally stunned that anyone, even a freaking billionaire would actually just flat out pony up the cash without a fight. Was I being punked?

"Consider everything already paid for."

"Convenient." I murmured. "But- uh- my God, thank you! I mean wait- no, no, you said new car? No way." I said shaking my head defiantly even though he couldn't see me. "Don't do that, please."

"Is there a problem, Miss LaBelle?" Veidt asked, sounding a tad surprised.

"It's Jack, thank you, and yeah there's a problem. You can't just throw a new car in my face and act like shit never happened! I can't accept that."

"How interesting. Why not?"

That was a damn good question. Why the hell not? Well firstly, I'm a wee bit insane, and I don't function well when people give me big gifts. It's embarrassing and I can't really handle that well. Secondly I have a very paradoxical opinion of myself that is both humble to the point of being saint-like, and high enough that I have been referred to as an "obnoxious perfectionist," which prevents me from accepting said gifts without feeling like I don't deserve it. It all ties together with the insanity part. It doesn't have to make sense.

"It's hard to explain without sounding like a complete idiot." I sighed. "It happens."

"In that case, I ask you come visit my office tomorrow afternoon to discuss the matter further. Is three o'clock suitable?"

I reluctantly told him it was and we exchanged goodbyes. As soon as I hung up, I turned to find Virgil had been standing behind me listening in.

"Wud he say?" Virgil asked, slurping apple juice.

"He wants me to meet him tomorrow so we can talk."

"Are you gonna date him?"

"No. Shut up and drink your juice box."

**A/N I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Please let me know by reviewing!**


	2. Well Aren't You The Special One?

**Title: Half Jack**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Here I was- half deaf, tied up & bleeding out all over the damn carpet- If someone had told me six months ago that Adrian Veidt would be the one to personally end my life, I'd have called 'em a liar. Too bad I'm usually wrong.**

**Thanks so much to my reviewers! I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter!**

_Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed  
>when silly thoughts go through my head<br>about the bugs and alphabet  
>and when I wake tomorrow I'll bet<br>that you and I will walk together again  
>cause I can tell that we're going to be friends<em>

~We're Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

"You're not gonna wear that are you?" Claudia commented dryly. "You look homeless with that backpack." Ever so subtle, children are.

I rolled my eyes. "What do you suggest then? It's not like a friggin' formal event."

"Wear that pretty flowery blouse with the strings. And a skirt."

"Uh, no skirts. It's too cold and I don't feel like shaving right now." I said firmly. I took Claudia's advice and changed into a different top- kind of a hippie flower-child blouse over a pair of dark gray slacks. "Whaddya think now?"

"Ohh… nevermindyoulookfat." Claudia said quickly, turning away.

"Holy crap, Claudia, don't friggin' help!"

I arrived ten minutes before that appointment but was sent up immediately anyway. On my way up, via elevator, I had a sudden attack of pathological shyness, or what my family often referred to as "the crazies."

_Stay calm, try not to smile too much, and try to use slightly above average intelligence vocab._ Deep breath and- "Excuse me, I'm here to see Mr. Veidt." I said, trying to sound confident.

The young bottled-blonde secretary at the desk looked up at me and we both gasped simultaneously. "Jack!" she exclaimed, and she leaped up from the desk to hug me.

"Oh my gosh, Chelsea Webb! I haven't seen you since senior year!" I said, but not nearly as excited as she. Chelsea and I had gone to school together for a couple years since my family moved up to New York., but I couldn't recall if we'd ever actually been friends.

"Are you feeling alright? I heard what happened!"

"I have some hearing loss I this ear," I pointed to my left "and I'm a little achy, but that will pass I think, so I shouldn't complain."

Chelsea tsked and shook her head, blond hair bouncing perfectly in place.. "Doll, you can bitch all you want, you've earned that right."

I thought about this for a second. "Your point seems legitimate. I suppose I can bitch after all."

Chelsea smirked. "You've always talked like that, huh? Even in high school. Real intelligent but secretly sarcastic."

"I'm pretty sneaky." I agreed.

A brief silence followed before Chelsea remembered to do her job and let Veidt know I'd arrived via intercom. "Please send her in." was the reply.

I raised my eyebrows, not expecting him to be so polite. "He's right through there." Chelsea pointed to a grand door, not eight feet from me.

The door was heavier than it looked, and I was sure I made a weird face as I pulled it open when I saw Veidt give me an amused smile. He was standing directly across from me from behind a handsome desk, and behind him, an enormous window in pristine condition- not a streak or smudge to be seen. "Come in, Miss LaBelle." He said graciously, beckoning me to take a seat.

I smiled warmly as I sat down. "How ya'll doin'?" Being born and raised in the south, I usually greeted people this way, though in New York I'd gotten some strange looks for it. C'est la vie. However, this southernism didn't faze the smartest man on earth, thank _Christ_.

"Quite well, thank you." The sun from the window hit him in such a way, that his hair gleamed gold, just like the day before.

"There's that halo again." I said dreamily, not realizing how odd that must have sounded.

He cocked his head. "Halo?"

I could have kicked myself. "Oh, that comment was supposed to stay _inside_ my head."

Dismissing the remark, he got straight down to business. I guess he wanted this over with as quickly as I did. "Your hospital bill is around $20,000,"

_Outrageous_, I thought.

"-and can by paid for immediately- any medicines and physical therapy included. Your car, I'm afraid, is beyond repair."

I blinked, wondering how he knew about my medical bill before I did. "Yeah, I figured about the car."

Veidt nodded. "And you still refuse compensation to the damages to it?"

"Right." We'd already talked about this on the phone. If he was so damn smart, how come he didn't understand that no meant no? How much time and money did I just waste to come down here for him to tell me shit I already knew?

"And actually," I shifted in my seat, suddenly eager to leave "the car can be fixed. I know a guy. Angel Allende, the _greatest_ mechanic this side of the Mason-Dixon line, owes me a _thousand_ free car repairs since I've saved his backside on a regular basis as a kid."

"I find it unusual that you would decline such an offer, or in this case, only half."

"I'm unusual." I said, completely deadpan. "But I've accepted that. Can you?"

"I don't see why not." Veidt said amusedly.

I grinned. "Oh good, that means we can be friends." I didn't mean for it to have a sarcastic edge, but that was just my voice.

Whether or not he took it to heart, I got a smile out of him. "I'd like that. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Not a one. You?"

"I do, actually; May I see you again on the fifth?"

I blinked, mentally checking my work schedule. "Well, yeah I reckon." I wanted very much to ask why, but decided against it.

"I have another question for you: Do you like tea, Miss LaBelle?" Veidt asked, seemingly off topic.

"I do." I said, trying not to sound confused.

"Good, then that's what we'll do."

My eyebrows shot up. "On the fifth you mean?" Tea time with Adrian Veidt? Good gravy that was unexpected, even for me. Usually I'm the one who's always surprising people. "Sounds like a plan." I agreed.

A cordial smile followed. "Around four then? I'll have someone pick you up."

I looked at him warily. "Not the chauffeur from yesterday, I hope. I don't trust him, just like I don't trust amphibians.

His silent stare prompted an explanation. "Land or water, choose a side!" I said, hoping that would suffice. "Also, I'm aware of how weird that was."

He leaned forward a bit in his chair and clasped his hands together. "I believe, Miss LaBelle that I agreed to accept you as you are, including your idiosyncrasies. Do you not recall that part of our conversation?"

I was awestruck that he'd been serious. "That might be the most amazing thing anyone has ever said to me." I said, genuinely impressed by what a gentleman he was.

Another brilliant smile. "Thank you for coming in, Miss LaBelle."

"Oh, hell, you can call me Jack. You-you've earned it, really." I was suddenly feeling better about this tea thing after all.

"And you may call me Adrian if you wish."

"Goodbye Adrian. I'll see you on the fifth."

"Goodbye Jack."

I walked out into the hall where Chelsea was waiting for me on the edge of her seat. "How'd it go?"

"My mind has been blown. Does that usually happen with him?"

"Oh, yeah." Chelsea nodded. "Yeah it does."

**A/N Yeah, this one is shorter than the last, but I'm trying a new method to make shorter chapters so I can update more.**


	3. I Hate My Job And I Hate You Too

**Thanks to my reviewers! I know this took a while to update but I was working on it little by little and I wrote part of the next one too. So, enjoy!**

_It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog  
>It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log<br>But when I get home to you I find the things that you do  
>Will make me feel alright<br>You know I feel alright  
>You know I feel alright...<em>

~Hard Day's Night by The Beatles

I don't think it should surprise anyone that I work in a toy store- the kind that sells handcrafted old-timey toys like what you'd find in one of those historic town shops. I myself carve and paint most of the wooden toys like dollhouses and little animal figurines. I love what I do, and I couldn't ask for a better job what with a great boss and decent pay and hours. The only problem I had surfaced about six days before I was supposed to meet Veidt for tea.

"Look alive, kid, we got a new arrival." My boss Vincent called to me. He looked out the workroom door and beckoned an unseen visitor forth.

I pouted my lip. "You hired somebody? And here I thought our relationship was exclusive."

"Jack, this is Alexis. She'll be running the registers from now on."

A woman my age stepped into the room and I almost dropped my work in utter shock. This was the second time this week that I'd met an old high school classmate, only this woman was the last person on earth I wanted to see. Alexis Peterson was one of the few people I was genuinely afraid of.

A child of a bitter divorce and an overly religious mother, Alexis had grown up a social outcast and a miserable bitch to boot. Every day for a semester in junior year Alexis would walk behind my desk at the beginning of chemistry class and yank a fistful of hair from my head, and I never knew why. Eventually the hair pulling led to creepy, threatening notes in my locker- something akin to demented love letters- and it only stopped once her mother died after a fatal fall down a flight of stairs and her new foster family moved across town.

I hoped to never see that black-eyed little psycho again, but you can't always get what you want, can you?

Her shiny eyes were wide and hungry, staring down at me like I was her prey. If she had licked her lips like a wild animal, I'd have stabbed her with my whittling knife then and there. "Hello Jack." She rasped. She had a serious smoker's voice.

"Hey, Alexis, welcome to Geraldi's." I said, managing to sound friendly without vomiting.

"She's already had her training on the days you missed." Vincent informed me.

Alexis looked at me somewhat listlessly. "Are you alright? Vincent told me about the accident."

Damn little sociopath, pretending like she had a soul. "I'm here now, aren't I?" I laughed weakly. "I'm just a little sore is all."

Her face darkened unexpectedly and I inwardly flinched. "And the man who hit you?"

"Oh, he's just fine. He turned out to be Adrian Veidt if you can believe it."

She only nodded in response and I glanced nervously at Vince, who was completely oblivious to my discomfort.

"Well Alexis, let's get you to work!" he said jovially, guiding her out of the workroom. "Jack, you just take it easy."

"Easier said than done." I grumbled out of earshot.

There was no external conflict between Alexis and I for the next remaining days before the fifth, but I was sure she was watching me the whole time. I felt her eyes boring holes into my skull every time I turned around. On the fourth, I told Vincent about Veidt's invitation.

"I can't imagine what we'll talk about." I said to him.

"Well I'm positive you'll find a good topic." He assured me. "That's the best way to figure out if you want to go on a second date."

I stopped whittling my rocking horse and glared up at the old man. "Tea is not a date." I said firmly. "And that is not up for debate."

Vince grinned from behind his snowy white moustache. Finish your work girl, we're about to close up."

I was about to return to my work when I felt a presence behind me. I turned and to find Alexis looming over me with a dark glint in her eye. I blanched, trying not to pee myself.

"You need something?" I said shakily.

"Why would you date Veidt after he almost got you killed?" She said, her voice dangerously quiet. "Are you such a whore that you'll let anyone hit you?"

My jaw hit the floor. "What the fuck did I ever do to you? You hated me in high school and you hate me now, too? GodDAMMIT, you are one mean bitch." I threw down my knife and stormed out of the store, not even bothering to clock out.

XxXxXxX

Somebody left me flowers when I came home from work that night. Or at least that's what Claudia told me once I walked in the door.

"Sumbody left you roses." Claudia said teasingly. "Virgil found them in front of your door so we brought them in for you. That's them on the table."

I scrunched my face in confusion not entirely in the mood for presents. "Who're they from?"

The girl shrugged. "Beats me. They didn't leave a card. Methinks you have a secret admirer."

"Jack's got a boyfriend!" Virgil taunted.

Grinning coyly, I held the bouquet up to my face and inhaled the sweet scent. "Oh my, a gentleman sending such pretty gifts to a young lady?" I drawled in a heavy southern bell dialect. "I do declare!"

"So who do you think they're from?" Virgil asked.

"God only knows." I trailed over to the kitchen to find something to hold the flowers. I didn't have a vase but I decided a tea pitcher would do the job.

Maybe it was Adrian. That would be awful sweet of him but I had my doubts. He seemed like the kind of guy to give gifts face-to-face anyway.

"I guess I'll find out eventually, hmm?'

I normally don't hold my physical appearance in high regard, especially when it comes to clothing, but today just felt different. My dress was still casual but was what some might call church-appropriate. Then I swept my hair back into a loose bun and called it a masterpiece, contrary to Claudia's protests. It was nearing three thirty when it occurred to me that whomever was supposed to pick me up today probably didn't know my apartment number.

"Maybe we should wait outside for him." Claudia suggested.

"We?"

"Yeah, we. I'm not done hanging out."

I blinked. "Shouldn't you be in school right now?"

She scoffed. "No. It's three in the afternoon. Besides, a water main broke this morning and we were told to stay home."

"I bet that was your fault." I shook my head. "You little delinquent."

We waited together on the front steps to our apartment building, and sure enough, a sleek, black, luxury car pulled up in front. An older man in your average chauffeur uniform emerged from the parked vehicle and greeted us with a smile.

"Swank." I grinned, and Claudia whistled, impressed as well.

"Good afternoon, Miss LaBelle. Sorry to keep you waiting." The man said humbly.

I shook my head. "I haven't been out her for more than a minute." Claudia looked ready to contradict me so I changed the subject. "Where exactly are we headed? Adrian didn't really specify…"

The chauffeur opened the side door, allowing me to enter. "Mr. Veidt reserved a room at The Gardens for the two of you. Is that all right?"

My eyebrows shot up and I nodded vehemently I'd never actually be to The Gardens before but I'd heard wonderful things about it. Apparently it held extravagant weddings and the most incredible parties usually reserved for high society snobs that can afford it. Each room is extravagantly themed with different cultural backgrounds all in garden form, from Victorian English to Japanese Zen.

In my daze I felt Claudia tug on my sweater. "Since when are you and that jerk on a first name basis?"

"Since it turns out he isn't one." I stuck my tongue out as I climbed into the back seat.

"Whatever." said Claudia. "Just don't come back pregnant."


	4. Mad Jack And The Billionaire

**Title: Half Jack**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Here I was- half deaf, tied up & bleeding out all over the damn carpet- If someone had told me six months ago that Adrian Veidt would be the one to personally end my life, I'd have called 'em a liar. Too bad I'm usually wrong.**

**Thanks to all my dear reviewers! High fives all around!**

_I need another story  
>Something to get off my chest<br>My life gets kind of boring  
>Need something that I can confess<em>

_Till all my sleeves are stained red_  
><em>From all the truth that I've said<em>  
><em>Come by it honestly I swear<em>  
><em>Thought you saw me wink, no, I've been on the brink, so<em>

_Tell me what you want to hear_  
><em>Something that were like those years<em>  
><em>I'm sick of all the insincere<em>  
><em>So I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

~Secrets by OneRepublic_  
><em>

A short man in horn-rimmed serial-killer glasses greeted us as the chauffeur walked me in. "Good afternoon! May I help you ma'am?" he said cheerfully. Thank goodness he wasn't the snob I expected him to be or else I'd had to gut him.

But before I could answer, the new chauffeur stepped forward and politely asked for the Egyptian Room.

The man's face lit up in recognition. "Oh, you must be Mr. Veidt's guest! Please follow me."

I waved goodbye to the chauffeur who merely smiled and tipped his hat and turned away. Trailing after the man, I began to read the door plaques with peculiar interest. Caribbean Room, Victorian Room, Venetian Room, each title more interesting than the last.

I laughed lightly. "Do you guys have an Alice In Wonderland Room?"

He looked at me curiously. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, y'know, the Mad Hatter's tea party? Alice In Wonder-no? Okay" I cut myself off before I made myself look like a bigger idiot than I already did.

The little man led me to a pair of ornate doors with a gold plaque declaring "The Egyptian Room" above them.

"Right this way, ma'am." He said and gestured for me to walk though.

Immediately I understood why Adrian would pick this room. Under the high glass ceiling grew a virtual field of lush vegetation, perfectly green and groomed but till retaining its natural beauty. I walked down a marbled path passing by gorgeous statues of Egyptian deities and impressively simple fountains when I came upon Veidt sitting pensively at a sweet little table. I stood there silently watching him think until her finally sensed my presence.

"Jack." he said, rising to meet me. "I'm glad you came." Unexpectedly he gently took my hand and kissed it.

"Well I said I would." I said nonchalantly, trying to play off my embarrassment. "This is some room, huh? When I first walked in I almost forgot how to breathe."

"I find it to be quite lovely myself. Egyptian history and culture has always fascinated me." He said with a pleasant smile.

I smirked. "I never would have guessed it."

Veidt's smile never faltered and her poured the tea. "I believe this is the part when we ask questions to get to know one another."

My lips parted and I glanced off at nothing in particular, trying to think of a good ice-breaking question. "Whats your favorite color?" It was simple, direct, clichéd, and the first thing that popped into my head. What the hell, I might as well just start off easy.

"Purple." He said and sipped his tea. I told him I preferred green. "Where do you work?"

"Giraldi's. It's a toy store just a few minutes from where I live. I make little wooden toys ad paint doll houses." I said proudly. My job might not be as important or influential as his but I was a craftsman, dammit, and an artist at that!

"Do you like working with your hands?"

My mind immediately went to dirty places and I grinned. "I love my job." I looked down at my hands and flexed my fingers. They desperately needed lotions. "But I'll probably have arthritis by the time I'm forty. Are you a cat person or a dog person? Or are you a terrorist and you hate animals?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. "I like all animals but I admire a cat's power and grace far more than any other creature's."

I nodded in agreement. "Yeah I know what you mean. I actually have to have a cat around or I get depressed, but I have to hide my cat from my landlady."

"Does your cat have a name?" he asked.

I thought back to my mangy orange tabby back home who was probably nestled atop of my newspaper stack like all cats love to do. "Well, I named him Dave when I rescued him about ten years ago, but he's turned out to be a real jerk so I now call him Lucifer."

Adrian's whole face lit up as he laughed at my "adorable" pet name and I couldn't help but laugh with him. He really seemed like a man who didn't have the opportunity to experience a good hard laugh on a regular basis.

"Well, he's so old now, I can't really blame him for being a grumpy old man. But I do have to lock him up at night or he'll ambush me in my sleep and attack my hair."

"Cat's certainly have interesting personalities." Adrian commented.

I scoffed at this. "Mine's the devil incarnate. He pissed on my bible _and_ my catechism. What does _that_ tell you?"

"Are you catholic, Jack?"

I wistfully hung my head and stared at my lap in shame. "Yes, but not a very good one. I haven't been to mass in months. If by some chance you meet my mother, do _not_ tell her."

"I wouldn't dream of it." he promised.

I nodded. "Word."

Conversation carried on like this for a while, mostly of trading little personal facts and swapping stories and our favorite things. It was nice to learn a little more about him, but it just seemed a bit... shallow. Kind of like my last boyfriend. I knew for damn sure this wasn't all Adrian wanted to talk about, but maybe I was just being unreasonable as I often was.

I decided to hit him with a more personal question for my own gratification. I cleared my throat.  
>Name one thing that makes you happy. Like the kind of happy where you feel like all oyur problems are long gone and you'll never hurt again."<p>

There was a long pause and for a moment he seemed to be at a complete loss. I started to regret my tactlessness and I wondered if the man had time to be happy. I felt inconsiderate and I desperately wished to kick myself.

"...You don't have to answer that." I said softly. After a moment more of uncomfortable silence, I decided to answer my own question. "What makes me happiest is being at home with my family. I know it's a little cheesy but," I struggled to find a poetically accurate description of my feelings "but there's no other place on earth where I can walk into any room and know that someone is genuinely glad to see me. And... it's truly worth all the bullshit life has thrown at me."

"It's that mutual feeling of welcome and love, I'm sure." Adrian smiled serenely. "You must be quite close."

"We'd better friggin' be after all that effort I put into 'em. Honestly. I have four older brothers and about forty cousins I had to literally battle to keep from killing each other. No joke. It was either I learn how to fight or get pinned down and spit on. I know that doesn't sound "close" but believe me, I'd die for any of them." I took a swig of tea in frustration.

'"Tell me about your brothers."

"Well Adam is the oldest. He's been married seven years and he's expecting his second baby. He and I used to sneak me out of my room and watch the Twilight Zone with me after my parents had gone to bed. Noah and Sean are twins but they're total opposites. Sean used to hide my favorite books and stuffed animals just to be an ass, but Noah would always help me find whatever he stole. Noah's a welder and Sean is a glass blower, and together they make custom light fixtures over in Tennessee. Then there's James, the least obnoxious of my brothers. He taught me to read when I was three. We'd go down to the creek and practice writing in the mud until it got too dark to see or the mosquitoes started biting." My overactive brain started to fire off neurons and it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't spoken to my family since before the accident. "Ohhh, man."

Veidt tilted his head curiously. "Is something wrong, Jack?"

I grinned sheepishly and bit my thumbnail. "I haven't told my family about the accident yet."

"I would have thought that to be a priority. Will they be very upset?"

"It's my mom I'm worried about. She knows I'm such a scatterbrain, but she'll probably give me a verbal beat down about how I'm lucky to belong to a species where mothers generally don't eat their young." Another horrible memory surfaced and I blanched. "She's visiting in a couple days too. I can't remember for shit! Maybe if I tell her about that crazy chick at work, she'll go easy on me."

"And what about this girl would absolve you of this transgression?"

I hesitated as some part of my irrational fear tugged on my sleeve like a warning that Alexis could hear every word we were saying. "She… used to terrorize me in high school. I don't feel safe around her."

I relayed the story of Alexis' abusive and unstable nature and listed all the times I had to go home early because I was too scared to go to class. I also mentioned our little spat the day before, though I left out the part about his being the subject of discussion.

"I just think it's a little strange that she's suddenly in my life again after all that."

It was surprising to watch Adrian's usually pleasant face harden the way it did. "It does appear suspicious, but sometimes paranoia develops out of old fears and things are not as they seem."

I didn't answer but I knew he was right. I was raised to give people the benefit of the doubt but I still mistrusted that mad-eyed witch with every part of my being and probably always would.

"It appears we've lost track of time." Veidt said suddenly. "I'm late for a meeting."

It looked up at the glass ceiling despondently. The sky had grown quite dark and every light in the room had been lit without my noticing. "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry about that." I said guiltily.

Miraculously he only smiled. "I was too busy enjoying your company to notice. Please don't feel responsible."

I shrugged a bit ruefully. "If you say so."

Inwardly I was beaming from the compliment, unused to such a positive response to my left-of-center nature. However I was aware of and worried by my aloof reception to his kindness, hoping I hadn't driven away what could potentially be a strong friendship- these I had very few of.

Walking back to the entrance, I awkwardly proposed to show him some of my work as an opportunity to see each other again.

"I'd be happy to. I'll be away for the next couple of days, but I will have Chelsea contact you to work out a schedule if you'd like to meet at Giraldi's."

I scoffed and adamantly shook my head in dissent. "Not on your life, sport. We'll be at my apartment this time. No way in hell I'm exposing you to _her_." She'd probably follow him home and rape him just to spite me. Poor man. A disturbing mental picture plastered itself to my mind and I grimaced.

"That's very thoughtful of you." Apparently he then noticed my bizarre expression. "You keep doing that."

"Oh yeah, I know I make weird faces. It usually happen when my train of though is stuck boarding at the station."

He laughed again and I almost thought I could hear bells ringing. "Good luck with your mother, Jack."

I laughed mirthlessly at that. "Thanks for reminding me. Good night, Adrian Veidt."

Oh hell, that rhymed.

A/N Hey, sorry about the brevity, but I wanted to put this out so bad! Please review!


	5. God, I Really Hate Waiting

**Thanks so **much** for your patience! And of course to my reviewers, I have the next chapter written but I'll put it up right before Christmas as a gift to you. This particular chapter is dedicated to my increasingly avid reviewer Dementia who has been pestering me nonstop, and I just had to end the madness. I'm sorry for torturing you so. ENJOY!**

_She's never pulled anyone from a burning building  
>She's never rocked Central Park to a half a million fans, screaming out her name<br>She's never hit a shot to win the game  
>She's never left her footprints on the moon<br>She's never made a solo hot air balloon ride, around the world,  
>No, she's just your everyday average girl (but)<em>

_She's somebody's hero_  
><em>A hero to her baby with a skinned up knee<em>  
><em>A little kiss is all she needs<em>  
><em>The keeper of the cheerios<em>  
><em>The voice that brings Snow White to life<em>  
><em>Bedtime stories every night<em>  
><em>And that smile lets her know<em>  
><em>She's somebody's hero<em>

~She's Somebody's Hero by Jaime O'Neal

To say that I value my sleep is a massive understatement. The moment Veidt's chauffeur dropped me off safely back home I immediately crawled under the covers in my usual bedtime attire of undies and a wife beater. On the verge of slumber, I was rudely jostled awake by a firm swat to the face by my loathsome feline companion.

I glared at him through the dark. "Does fatty want food?" Devil-cat only replied with a rumbling purr. I realized right away that he wasn't ever going to give me a moment's peace unless I fed him and I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed. It was all just as well, for the moment my feet hit the floor the phone rang.

Coughing the sleep from my voice, I answered. "LaBelle residence, home of the world's smallest meth lab. Jack speaking."

It was mother, oh irony. "Now child, I_ know_ I raised you to use your manners better than that." Robyn LaBelle scolded in her heavy New Orleans accent.

"Oh, Robyn, you know I'm no advocate for proper phone etiquette."

"And on top of that, you haven't called your poor mother in nearly a month." She retorted.

I cleared my throat again, brainstorming for a tactful way to break the news to her. "I've uh, been a little disoriented; I was in an accident last week-"

"-Last week? And you didn't tell me? Are you hurt, baby?"

"Just a little banged up. My hearing is a bit damaged in one ear too."

"And the car?"

"To shit. I have to call Angel tomorrow about repairs." I gave her a summary of the damages and what had happened at the intersection that day. "And the man in the other car had to make me go to the hospital after I started talking like a senile old woman."

She snorted. "That's no different from any other day."

Everything that is wrong with me, I inherited form my mother: small stature, sharp tongue, lack of censorship, and of course, a chemical imbalance. My brothers were a bit luckier in the genetic lottery; all tall and good-looking with no mental disabilities to speak of. Despite all this I sincerely love her- defects and all.

"You'll never guess who hit me."

"You're right. Tell me."

"Adrian Veidt."

"That's bull." She said flatly.

"Believe what you want but it's true. Mom, he paid my hospital bill and then we had tea together." There was a long silent pause on her end and I thought our connection had been dropped. "Mother?"

"Why on _earth_ did you have tea with him?"

"Did you not hear me? He paid my bill, no strings attached! It's a friggin' miracle! The tea was just his way of apology. I might see him again sometime."

"Well sweetie, as long as you use a condom."

"HOLY SHIT MOTHER. TOO MUCH."

"Calm down I'm just looking out for you." She said dismissively. "Anyway, I called with a purpose. Your father's broken his leg this afternoon and we just got back from the hospital."

I gasped. "Poor little Daddy. How's he feeling? Can I talk to him?"

Mom cleared her throat. "Well's he's all tuckered out, poor thing- fell asleep on the couch as soon as we got in. Honey, I don't think we'll be able to come and visit this month."

"Do you need me to come down there and help out?"

"Gracious no, we'll be alright. You'll come down for Thanksgiving, right darlin'?"

Tiredly I agreed to the postponement and bid my mother a good night. But before I returned to my beloved bed, I was sure to feed Lucifer and disconnect the phone.

Work the next day was painfully slow. It was Alexis's day off, and Vince couldn't get anyone to cover for her, so I was stuck running back and forth between the register and the back room. All I could think about was calling Angel to fix my baby and whether or not Adrian would really meet me in the next few days.

When I got home I discovered another floral arrangement- lilies this time- and still from an anonymous sender. One those were taken care of I finally called Angel.

"Well? Does it sound fixable to you?" I asked after describing the extent of the damage.

Angel's thick Latino accent made it difficult to understand him over the phone, but he was certainly loud enough to hear and he barked a derisive laugh. "Jhu're kidding me right? There ain't nothing I can't fix, baby."

Dumb question. "I knew I could count on you. How's Lisbet and the kids?"

"Eh, they're beautiful as ever. Lisa's planning their Halloween costumes right now. I've never seen her so essited."

I imagined a tiny, young, frantic Latina fussing in Spanish over her toddler's pumpkin costumes. "Too cute." I laughed. "Hey man, I gotta go. Call me when you get it done."

Another day passed by and still no word from Adrian. I never would have admitted it, but I couldn't help but feel a little let down, if not really, really stupid. It must have been something I said to put him off like this. I was so dumb to think that he was being anything but polite- I mean I'd offered to show him toys for Pete's sake! There were days when I was proud to be different if not a little crazy, but today I felt like the biggest weirdo in the land of New York City.

"Lame-ass!" I cried, and buried my face into a throw pillow.

"I beg your pardon, are you talking to me?" Claudia said, clearly offended.

I looked down at her and Virgil miserably. "Sorry ya'll. Forgot you were here."

Virgil tilted his head in sympathy and grabbed my hand. "Hard day, huh?"

"Hard Day." I affirmed, gently giving his hand a squeeze.

After a while I realized that I just needed to get out of the house and go anywhere. Just anywhere but here. "I'm going to the store to pick up some milk. Don't break anything while I'm gone."

The two exchanged a surreptitious glance, and then looked back at me. "No promises." Claudia said slyly.

At the store, I gave in to my weakness for children's snacks and bought a box of goldfish with the half gallon of milk. Sometimes I eat my sadness away, like most women. It's a sad fact, but it happens.

Closing in on the checkout line, a tap on the shoulder diverted me from my goal. Warily I turned to find Chelsea Webb standing in front of the cosmetics aisle with her own purchases of nail polish, black mascara, and some fat-free drink that I'd never dream of touching.

"Oh, Chelsea, hi."

Hew ruby red lips spread into a pretty smile. "Jack! It's so funny, I was just thinking about you! Hey listen, I was supposed to call you yesterday for Mr. Veidt, but it completely went over my head. Do you have a minute to get that out of the way?"

Shamelessly elated to know that I hadn't been forgotten, I couldn't stop the big, stupid grin from growing on my face. God, I had some abandonment issues. "Yes ma'am, I have a minute." I said cheerily.

"Ma'am? Oh Jack, your Southern is showing." Chelsea giggled, since that's what Chelsea does. "Mr. Veidt's schedule is pretty full for the next few days, but he has a few hours this Thurday from 5 p.m. to eight. Every other day is unavailable till the 22nd."

I blinked, impressed that she had all this memorized so easily. "Sounds like Mr. Veidt needs a day off. The 22nd will do though. I'll keep it open."

Honestly, it felt totally unhealthy to arrange a friendly appointment so meticulously. Somebody needed a little spontaneity, and fast.

XxXxXxX

Alone in his office, Adrian Veidt sat quietly leafing through a manila folder. It was very late, and all employees had gone home save for security and the night janitor. But hey wouldn't bother him up here, which is precisely how he wanted it.

The folder on his desk was surprisingly thick- it contained birth certificates, transcripts from kindergarten through high school, insurance papers, extracurricular activities (he was surprised to learn she had excelled in ballet for twelve years), but the majority of the papers was her medical record. Jacquelyn Adelaide Carolina LaBelle had been hospitalized three times in a Louisiana mental hospital for attempted suicide in 1974, reasons unknown. Her family moved to New York just three months after her release and although her parents returned to the south, Jack stayed behind and worked. She regularly saw the same shrink for nine years years up until just four months ago.

"What am I to make of you Jack?" Veidt said aloud.

It's no exaggeration to say that everyone has their secrets- himself included- but the darkest of paths, the dreaded periods of misery and despair belong to the most unsuspecting people. Jack's ever-shifting demeanor between endearing insanity and off-putting indifference was nothing more than a mask, like the one he once wore years ago. Despite the charade he admired her character. He even found himself wanting to be in her presence, thoroughly happy with their friendship. He had few real friends- certainly Jon and Dan Dreiburg- but the ties weren't strong in the least. Even someone who struggled with human relations as he did could recognize that. He neatly stacked the papers back in the folder and placed it in a drawer.

Perhaps it was time to change that.


	6. No Amount Of Therapy Will Make This OK

**Ouch, you guys, only one review? Oh well, it happens I guess. Anyway, Merry Christmas everyone! Here's a short little gift for all of you supah-fans out there! **

_I know that you  
>Don't know me very well<br>We've barely met  
>But I can surely tell<br>No one will ever  
>Love you like I do<em>

_I like to feel_  
><em>The warm spot on your chair<em>  
><em>Sometimes I drool<em>  
><em>And usually I stare<em>  
><em>My precious one<em>  
><em>I saved that gum<em>  
><em>That you threw in the garbage<em>

_You're the one I dream about_  
><em>But the only question with me now<em>  
><em>Is "Do I creep you out?"<em>  
><em>Everytime I shake your hand now<em>  
><em>Wanna stick your fingers in my mouth<em>  
><em>Do I creep you out?<em>

~Do I Creep You Out by Weird Al Yankovic

The 21st of October, in my opinion, should be a freaking national holiday. After two weeks of absence, Vincent finally fired Alexis. Though I would have done just the opposite, Vince called her after the first few days to make sure she wasn't fatally ill or a missing person, which, as it turns out she wasn't.

As soon as I heard the news, I let out a cry of joy, and every head I the store swiveled in my direction. "Miracles all around us!" I crowed and lifted my arms in praise of the heavens.

Vic was astounded. "You didn't like her? I didn't realize you were one to pass judgment."

I sniffed. "I _don't_ pass judgment. I lean on the horn and flip it the bird."

"Well whatever you do, don't let it affect your work."

"Aye, aye sir!" I saluted my boss and returned to the register.

The rest of the day was an absolute breeze. There were no bitchy customers with bratty kids who only preferred cheap plastics novelty toys and action figures to quality crafts, and not once did I slip and cut myself with my knife. It was almost too good to be true.

It was Vincent's night to lock up, so I made like a tree and got the hell out of there as soon as my shift ended. Though my car was still in the last stages of repair thanks to the miracle worker that is Angel Allende, I made the short walk home with a spring in my step and a metaphorical smile in my heart. Even when I passed a grungy gentleman wielding a picket sign declaring that the End was nigh, I actually _smiled_ at the sonovabitch. I just couldn't help myself.

I just had to try and spread the cheer with the grim-faced vagrant in my blissful state. The smile went unreciprocated and I left for home anyways.

For once, Claudia and Virgil hadn't infiltrated my defenses and I was allowed to spend my evening of celebration alone with Lucifer who was asleep in the kitchen sink. "Let the joyous news be spread! The wicked old witch at last is dead!" I cackled and kicked off my shoes.

My old dancing skills still intact, I pirouetted across the cold linoleum to the kitchen, coming to stop in front of the lounging cat. I leaned forward and grinned. "Not bad for a hominid, huh?"

Lucifer closed one eye and yawned. You just can't please some people.

I saw it before I could react- a dark cloth swinging around my line of vision and clamping down over my mouth and nose. I twisted and kicked until my limbs were to heavy and my strength wilted and I fell into a deep and unnatural sleep.

XxXxXxX

I don't remember dreaming, but the sharp pinch in the crook of my arm that stirred me from sleep was certainly like waking up from a nightmare. I had no memory of how I got here. Though my surroundings were blurred like watercolors, it was obvious I was someplace new.

A figure was hunched in front of me holding something that looked dangerously like a syringe and a whimper escaped from my throat.

"Shhh…" the stranger said, and reached out to gently stroke my hair. "Everything is going to be okay from now on. You'll see."

God, what the hell was going on? A list of every woman's worst fears began to pile up in my imagination and weigh heavy on my stomach. I thought, _I'm going to die here._ I cheated Death three times just to get wasted by some deranged stranger in what looked like a crappy motel room that was probably in a part of town where your screams fell on deaf ears.

Then something new happened. The stranger was no longer visible and the furniture began to shimmer and blend into the walls, losing their dimension like a melting candle and swirling along in a vertical current. The tacky peeling wallpaper became fluid and oily, sickeningly churning along with the animated furniture.

Distorted wasn't even the word for it- no it was something beyond my experience that prevented the right use of description. I felt this was all so terribly wrong, but simple awareness wasn't enough. Powerless and running out of optimism, I screamed at the top of my lungs, only to have a white cloud come down over my head and smother the shrill sound. The cloud proved impossible to breathe through. My heart started pounding in my eardrums and my lungs pumped till I felt pain and I could no longer make a sound.

A few seconds later, the cloud lifted. I gratefully sucked in the air that I had taken for granted my whole life, trying my hardest not to cry.

"Don't make me do that again." The stranger's voice whispered. "It hurts me to hurt you."

That someone kissed my temple; a tenderness that only felt cold and dangerous to me now. I wanted my mother. I wanted my daddy and my brothers. I just wanted someone to walk in the door and take me home.

"Mma..go…hoome…" I groaned in misery.

"Your home is with me now." The voice said, still disembodied. "Home is wherever you are loved. And I love you Jack. Did you hear me? I love you."

A hand emerged from the empty space in front of me and rested on my face. Its thumb began to stroke soft circles on my cheek and the fear bloomed in my stomach. A tear slid down, only to be wiped away by my captor.

God help me.


	7. This Is A Misery Ripoff, Ain't It?

**Gah, you guys I'm sorry for the long wait again, but my internet keeps getting shut off, and I've had college applications to work on which have been an absolute terror. Thank you for you patience, except you, Demee. Your bothering has definitely been incentive to get this up. See, I write during free time in class, but I can never get them typed up and online in time. Enjoy the next chapter and as always, review!**

_I feel my wings have broken in your hands_  
><em>I feel the words unspoken inside<em>  
><em>When they pull you under<em>

_And I would give you anything you want, no_  
><em>You were all I wanted and all my dreams are fallin' down<em>  
><em>Crawlin' 'round, 'round and 'round<em>

_Somebody, save me_  
><em>Let your warm hands break right through me<em>  
><em>Somebody, save me<em>  
><em>I don't care how you do it<em>

_Just stay, stay, come on_  
><em>I've been waiting for you<em>

~Somebody Save Me by Remy Zero

It was the door that told him something was wrong. It wasn't just unlocked- it was_ ajar_. Adrian's investigation required entering which he did once his knocking went unanswered.

The first room was the den/foyer- just a worn out couch, a few picture frames and a standard color television. Still, it was clean and appropriately decorated for a single, working-class woman.

"Jack?" he called out in the dim hope she would walk out and greet him with that impish smile he'd grown fond of. But all he got was a small swat to the ankle. Looking down, he found that the offender was a Maine Coon cat, who mewled at him urgently. Lucifer, he assumed, was hungry if Jack's absence had been for more than a day.

In the kitchen he discovered a few cans of wet cat food and offered one to the starving feline who greedily accepted. It was possible she had only forgotten he was coming and gone out somewhere without securely locking her door- she was a bit absent-minded after all- and the only thing out of the ordinary _was_ the door. Then again, this was New York City- crime wasn't exactly rare here.

Now Adrian wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but every instinct was on high alert as the apartment's eerie silence only intensified his uneasiness. If his suspicions were indeed plausible, then further investigation was required.

He rooted through her cabinets until he found a copy of a phonebook and began to search for once number in particular: Giraldi's. He dialed and waited until an older man with a mild Italian accent answered on the third ring.

Adrian only asked if Jack was at work that day. The man replied no, it was her day off and that he had not seen her since last evening.

"Would you happen to know where she might be now?" Adrian asked, rubbing his jaw.

"If I had to guess, I'd say she's at home."

"Was she in any distress when she left work yesterday?"

"Not in the least. She practically skipped out the door. I never woulda thought she'd get so excited over someone else's misfortune."

"Misfortune?"

"Yeah, had to let somebody go yesterday. Guess the two didn't get along. Funny, she never said anything about it to me."

"Was it Alexis Petrov?" Adrian asked, dangerously quiet.

"Yep, that's the one. Say, who is this anyway?"

"A concerned friend. Thank you for your time."

His hang hovered over the phone for only a second as he rapidly thought out his next move, then proceeded to make another call.

"Chelsea? This is Adrian. I want all the information on Alexis Petrv, and I need it one my desk within the next half hour."

"…Alexis Petrov?" she repeated uncertainly.

"I assume you knew her from school?"

"God, I wish I didn't. The stories I could tell you about that freak-and-a-half."

"You may just have to share them. Half hour."

He considered taking the cat with him for safekeeping but decided against it, remembering its namesake matched its mood. If need be, he would send for someone to care for it later.

Adrian quickly left the building where his chauffeur was waiting patiently for him outside the car, cigarette in hand.

"Leaving already sir?" he asked, hurriedly extinguishing the cigarette on the pavement to open the side door for his employer.

"Something I forgot at the office." Adrian climbed into the back seat and frowned disapprovingly at the remaining tobacco product that had been abandoned on the sidewalk. "Don't leave that there."

XxXxXxX

"Did you like the gifts I sent you? I didn't know what flowers you'd prefer, but everyone likes roses, as clichéd as they might be." The voice said happily. "I thought the lilies would complement the décor in your apartment. They'd look so pretty in your auburn hair too. Well, you'd be pretty if you wore a potato sack, but you know what I mean."

I was too terrified to respond to the revolting compliments, and I knew it was going to be difficult to repress my sarcasm. Being a smart-ass was dangerous and was liable to get me killed as a result.

"I-I need water… please." I rasped, barely managing to keep my voice form trembling. It was still unnerving not to be able to see my kidnapper's face, and it took all I had to keep my very thoughts straight; it was getting harder and harder each passing minute.

The voice chuckled. "Of course! I bet you're hungry too! You've been asleep for _such_ a long time now! Gimme a second and I'll get you a glass."

Whatever I was lying on, a bed, most likely, shifted its weight, and I knew the stranger had stepped away. I tried to sit up, but I could barely lift my head. Frustrated and disheartened by my immobility, hot tears welled up and trickled down my face, dripping off my earlobe.

_No, you can't do that here,_ I scolded myself, forcing back the waterworks_. Dammit, Jack! Grow a pair, would ya_?

The stranger soon returned to my side, propping my head up with something soft. "Here, drink." He commanded and pressed something cool to my lips.

I accepted the gift and drank. Tap water soothed my raw throat and I grunted to signal the stranger to stop the flow.

"I know it's not much, but you need to eat."

_Not on your life, Sport_, I thought and clamped my mouth shut.

"Oh come on, it's just soup. Open up now."

_Whatever it is, you probably spit in it._

"If you don't eat what I give you, you don't eat at all." He threatened. "_Open. Your. Mouth_."

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, I opened up for survival's sake and reluctantly ate the lukewarm chicken noodle soup. It was atrocious- dry chicken, entirely too much salt, and the so-called noodles practically disintegrated in my mouth.

Combined with the psychedelic swirling of my surroundings I became nauseated at the thought of another bite. Bile rose to my throat and I was sick all down my front, unable to hold back the meal.

"Oh, that's real fucking nice, _Jack_." The stranger spat, slamming down the bowl.

I winced, expecting him to continue yelling or even smack me across the face, but only a short, suspicious silence followed.

Finally: "Stay put."

_And go where, moron_?

The stranger left me, and after a moment I heard water running from another room. Great, now what the hell was ths guy up to?

"Oh, Jack." The stranger called in a sick, sweet, seductive voice. "Time for your bath."

"No!" I rasped. "No, no, don't you touch me." My heart pounded in terror, and I could barely lift a finger. Despite my weak protests, he lifted me up with a grunt and slowly carried me to the bathroom.

"Don't be shy, Jack." He said, peeling off my filthy shirt. "This is going to happen about every other day, so we might as well get this out of the way."

My bra was gone next, and then my work pants and underwear till there was nothing left. He left me lying there on the freezing bathroom floor, dreading what was coming next.

"Nice and hot. In you go." He lowered my limp body into the water and sat me up against the tiled wall.

_Please_, I thought, _Please no more_. I held my breath and bit back tears as roaming hands washed every inch of me.

Helpless, I shut my eyes and prayed as I waited for the humiliation to end.


	8. I'm Better Off Dead

**Title: Half Jack**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Here I was- half deaf, tied up & bleeding out all over the damn carpet- If someone had told me six months ago that Adrian Veidt would be the one to personally end my life, I'd have called 'em a liar. Too bad I'm usually wrong.**

**Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!**

_Help, I need somebody,  
>Help, not just anybody,<br>Help, you know I need someone,  
>Help!<em>

_When I was younger, so much younger than today,_  
><em>I never needed anybody's help in anyway.<em>  
><em>But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,<em>  
><em>Now I find I've changed my mind, I've opened up the doors.<em>

_Help me if you can, I'm feeling down_  
><em>And I do appreciate you being 'round.<em>  
><em>Help me get my feet back on the ground,<em>  
><em>Won't you please, please help me?<em>

~Help by The Beatles

He never gave me my clothes back- he said I wouldn't need them. Instead, he kept me under a heavy wool blanket to keep me warm. I guessed the drug was long lasting since the hallucinations only grew slightly less intense as the days- what I _assumed_ were days- went by.

We'd pass the time by watching crappy soap operas, listening to the radio, and reading the comic section of the paper which, incidentally, wasn't actually funny.

I was like a quadriplegic- he had to do everything for me, and I _mean_ everything. It wasn't rape, but I was certainly being violated, and I knew that if I ever got out of this alive, no amount of therapy could ever make this alright.

Every few hours when I'd finally start to get some feeling back in my limbs, I'd be drugged again with what I'd wager was actually chloroform, and all my strength was pushed back to square one. I could make out the furniture now, as well as the stranger's figure, but the face was still too blurred beyond recognition.

I wondered if I was missed. Surely Vincent noticed my absence, and I usually saw Claudia or Virgil on a daily basis, so someone by now must have contacted the police. But there was still doubt- an underlying hint that this was all just wishful thinking and I was going to be one of those missing people who weren't missed at all.

And then I thought of something I should have on day one: The only way to fight back was to regain my strength, right? The drug was my biggest hindrance, and the one way to defend myself was to play a little Opossum.

It was around my third or fourth bath that I seized my chance to escape. As predicted, he tried t force me to inhale more chloroform to make bath time more agreeable on his part, but as the rag came down over my face, I halted my airflow, careful not to be noticed. To complete the ruse, I shut my eyes and lay very still. After about twenty second of playing dead, the cloth lifted, convinced I was incapacitated.

The last thing I wanted was this creep to touch me again, but I had no choice in the matter. My limbs grew less numb as the minutes ticked by, and I allowed myself to flex my fingers and toes when I was sure he wasn't looking.

I still didn't trust my own strength by the time he put me back to bed, and I knew I would have to wait just a bit longer till he left me alone before I could make a run for it.

Every moment I could spare, I tested my muscles from under the heavy blanket until finally, I was sure I could stand on my own.

My chance came to me in the form of a bathroom break. The stranger, who had been lying next to me and reading aloud today's paper suddenly rose and pecked my lips.

"Be right back." He said sweetly, and walked off to the bathroom.

Although I was now out of his line of vision, he always kept the door halfway open so that he could monitor me. This was turning out to be more and more like that Stephen King novel I'd read last year. What was it called? _Misery_, maybe?

I peeled the blanket away and sat up slowly to avoid letting my blood rush from my head. Not wasting a second, I snuck to the door and began to unlatch the deadbolt, forgetting for a moment that I was about to run naked through the streets.

And then my head cracked against the door and I crumpled to the ground in a daze. I peered through the red streaming from the fresh, bloody gash on my brow to find the stranger's hulking form in a stance that I'd definitely categorize as aggressive.

"Just where the fuck do you think you're going?" He sneered, stooping down to grab a fistful of my hair and pull up to his face.

I blanched immediately, though it wasn't from the loss of blood. Gold hair, strong, masculine features, and very blue eyes- this was the most handsome man I'd ever seen in my life- but this wasn't our first encounter.

"Adrian?" I murmured breathlessly. How could it be?

Here I was- half-deaf, drugged up, and bleeding out all over the damn carpet- If someone had told me six months ago that Adrian Veidt would be the one to personally end my life, I'd have called 'em a liar. Too bad I was usually wrong.

His face contorted into rage and he threw me back on the ground. "I knew it. I fucking knew it." he spat.

I clutched at my wound and inched away from him. God, I'd just sealed my own fate.

"Did the pretty little rich boy steal your heart away? You think he'll make you happy? Think you want a man like him?" he drew his leg back and kicked me I the ribs, over and over, while screaming "YOU DON'T WANT ANOTHER MAN! YOU WANT ME!"

Each kick left me breathless and in shock, delivered in rhythmless strikes meant to keep me defenseless and in agony. Adrian Veidt would make me suffer to my last breath, which I figured was coming sooner than I had ever expected.

A deafening crack! And the sound of splintering wood shot a new streak of terror and confusion through me, and what came net I didn't fully understand. The kicking stopped and the screaming began. Sunlight and a cold blast of wind made me flinch, heavy footsteps and many loud voices thundered in the room and stifled the screams.

"WE NEED A BUS!" a new, male voice shouted. "Ma'am, are you awake? Can you speak to me now?"

I answered him with a weak cough, still recovering from the blows that took the wind out of me. If this was another illusion, I was glad to have it. I shut my eyes in submission and rode out the next ten minutes in silence until a small pinch in the crook of my arm brought me to a deep sleep.

I dreamt about my childhood home in New Orleans, or rather about the massive hundred and fifty year-old ancestral cemetery on the back of our property. I would roam the rows of headstones and eerily beautiful mausoleums like I would as a child, pretending that they were little houses for the ghosts during the daylight hours.

All too soon, the comforting sights of home melted away, and my eyelids fluttered open. The bedbug motel! It was no longer my prison!

I beamed, grin stretching from ear to ear. Every detail could be seen with clarity- no shifting furniture or blurred walls obstructed my view and kept me in a drugged-out haze! This place was sanitary, safe, and smelled lightly of formaldehyde as hospitals typically did.

"Oh, I'm out- it's not a dream, it's not a dream!" And then I did the most inappropriate thing- I began to laugh hysterically- or maybe I was crying at the same time- I really couldn't be certain, and neither could the poor nurse making her rounds in the next room when she heard the commotion.

I tried to suppress the madness when the doctor she summoned produced a hypodermic needle, thinking it would calm me.

"No, no don't! I'm so sorry, I just," I giggled and shook my head in an attempt to rid myself of the bizarre behavior." THAT WAS THE SINGLE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY ENTIRE LIFE, AND I THINK I LEFT THE WATER RUNNING AT HOME! Ahahaha, oh my God, I'm so tired- I'm just so tired you guys. I gotta feed my cat and call my mom, and then I'm gonna eat a tub of ice cream and watch Looney Tunes all day."

At this point, the laughter had subsided into weary sighs, and I allowed the doctor to assess my condition.

"You've been in our care for nearly eighteen hours now. You've sustained two cracked ribs and heavy bruising, and the MRI we took the liberty of doing for you showed no signs of head trauma, though at this moment I'm starting to see differently."

All the while I was gingerly prodding at the bandage covering the raw wound on my brow. "How many stitches?" I asked, ignoring the jab at my mental instability.

"Eighteen. Please stop poking it." he said testily, pulling my hand away.

Another man in a work suit appeared in the door and pulled a gold badge from inside his coat pocket. "Hey, Doc, is she available now?" he asked, flashing the badge as his identifier.

The doctor only shrugged. "I'm not convinced she'd fully lucid, but she's not in any immediate danger. I'll have the nurse outside if you need anything."

My doctor stepped out and the newcomer shut the door behind him. This guy was about thirty-four, tall and acceptably muscular, with dark, thinning hair and a posture that suggested military discipline.

He smiled cordially and took a place at the end of my bed. "Miss LaBelle, I'm Detective Zawistowicz. How're you feeling?"

I smirked. "Peachy."

"Peachy. Right, I'll be sure to make a note of it. Listen, I need you to tell me everything you can about what happened to you. It's imperative to your statement."

My stomach dropped. "…Why? Isn't he in your custody now?"

Zawitowicz tilted his head. "He who? You mean your kidnapper?" He studied my face carefully when I didn't answer. Jacquelyn, do you know who kidnapped you?"

"…"

"When we infiltrated the motel room, the perp pulled a knife and tried to assault on of our officers." He paused to wet his lips. "Another got a bit carried away and shot her before she could hurt anyone else. She's dead, Miss LaBelle. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

I stared at him, aghast. "She? A woman did this?" I'd been so convinced that it was a man, and Adrian Veidt to boot, but without hesitation now, I knew it had been Alexis all along. The girl who had tormented me in school and harassed me at work had secretly and obsessively loved me, and I never would have known it.

This whole damn time, I'd thought she was a crazy bitch who'd made it her mission in life to make me miserable, but in truth, she was a crazy lesbian who wanted to possess y love at any cost. How the hell was I supposed to deal with something so heavy?

I told the detective everything she had done from the drugging to the beating, though I didn't go into detail about the baths, lest I start getting choked up. Hallucinating about Adrian was also left out of the statement, not because it wasn't irrelevant, but highly embarrassing.

God, how could I not have seen? Their speech was completely different- hers wasn't nearly as sophisticated or eloquent, and I Alexis was the only person I knew was totally unhinged. I should have guess that right off.

How could I ever face him, especially after Zawistowicz told me it was Adrian who'd reported my disappearance, and practically led the entire investigation himself. Without him, the police would never have found Alexis in time. Without him, I'd be dead this very minute.


	9. My Mother The Moment Killer

**Title: Half Jack**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Here I was- half deaf, tied up & bleeding out all over the damn carpet- If someone had told me six months ago that Adrian Veidt would be the one to personally end my life, I'd have called 'em a liar. Too bad I'm usually wrong.**

**Thanks so much to reviewers! And a shoutout to Demee for her patience :) Sorry about the shortness! As to for song below, I'm totally obsessed with it after listening to the cover in Happy Feet :3**

_The funniest sound I ever heard_

_Papa-oom-mow-mow_

_Papa-oom-mow-mow_

_But I can't understand a single word_

_Papa-oom-mow-mow_

_Papa-oom-mow-mow_

_But if he's serious or if he's playin'_

_Whoo, my my is all he's sayin'_

_Papa, whooo_

_Baba-baba-baba-whoooooooo!_

~Papa Oom Mow Mow by the Beach Boys.

On most occasions, a surprise visit from my mother was less than pleasant, but the moment I saw Robyn damn near break down the door to get into my room, I bawled like a baby. She wrapped her arms around my neck and rocked back and forth for what seemed like hours while I sobbed into her blouse.

After I was sick of being sad, I laid back against my pillow and wiped away remaining teas with the back of my hand. "So what did they tell you?" I asked, sniffling.

Robyn wrung her hands as she often did when she was nervous about something. "None of the fine details. I didn't want to know any of the nitty gritty if somehow you had actually been..." She trailed off and I getly squeezed her hand for comfort. "Oh, that reminds me, someone else is here to see you. We had a nice, long chat while you were asleep, and so far, I approve."

My eyes narrowed into slits. "Approve of what, you crazy old bat?"

She onyl grinned and stood up to straighten her blouse. "Ya'll can talk while I call your father. James is at home taking care of him, but they're both worried sick."

Halfway out he door, she paused to look at me. "Also, I invited him to spend Thanksgiving weekend with us. He accepted."

With that, Robyn disappeared and left me anxious to see who my next visitor would be. I must have been cursed in another life because I just kept experiencing one awkward moment after another- in this case, the inability to find the right words to properly thank my savior as he entered the room.

Upon Adrian's smiling countenance, I moaned in frustration, smacking my face into my palm. "Ahhhg-ow! Jesus!" I flinched my hitting my bandage and immediately withdrew my hand.

"Jack?" Adrian said, stepping closer.

Frowning, I took another look at him. He appeared to be just how I'd left him- perfect hair, classy suit, imposing posture, but hi eyes were overworked and tired with worry.

My expression softened as I sighed in embarrassment. "I have no idea how I'm supposed to thank you with overdoing it. Compete loss for words."

He laughed and sat down beside me. "No need to fret over that, your mother already covered the thank you's."

I grimaced and leaned in close, ignoring the pain in my torso. "I am _so_ sorry if she said anything crazier than usual. But at least you know where I get it now, eh?"

"She's beautiful. You look just like her." he replied sincerely.

Aww. I glanced bashfully down at my lap then back at him, smiling. "Thank you."

He seemed to understand that I was grateful that he'd saved my ass and had used the compliment as an excuse to express that.

He gave me a knowing smile. "You'll be happy to know that your cat has been taken care of in your absence. I took the liberty of feeding him myself."

"Its a thankless job, isn't it?"

"It proved to be atd demeaning at first, but I pulled through."

Sarcasm form his end completely caught me off guard an I burst out laughing. "I'll be sure you get a big thank you kiss from the both of us."

Adrian stood as if preparing to leave. "Well, I'm just glad you're safe."

"If it weren't for you, I'd be in an unmarked grave somewhere right now." The color suddenyl drained from my face at this thought and I was ambushed by a merciless barrage of the what-if's.

What if Adrian hadn't come to see me the day after my abduction? What if 'd never told him about Alexis or what if I had never met him at all? I stared fearfully down at my lap, thinking Whatifwhatifwhatif...

"Jack."

"What?" I said dejectedly.

Adrian's hand suddenly flew to my face, grabbing my chin and angling it up and over to him, and in one swoop he crushed his lips over mine.

After one sweet, oh so short moment, he pulled away smiling softly. "Like I said, no need to thank me. Here comes your mother."

Dammit, Robyn!

She waltzed her big behind on in as if she couldn't possibly be interrupting somthing important. "Sorry I ttok so long. I had to pee and there was a line." She waved he hand dismissively. "I think your Daddy's 'bout to have a fit, he's just itchin' to see you, and poor James forgot to set the parking brake and took out the mailbox. Everybody wants to fly up here and visit, but I told 'em it could wait til we get together for Thanksgiving."

This news I did not object to. All my life, my trademark tactic for remedying emotional distress was to seclude myself for a short period, come out with a brave face until it cracks,re-enter isolation, then slowly crawl back into society. For some, this mere"pyschological bandaid" carelessly slapped over a wounded mind when professional treatment was needed, but I'd be damned if I had to waste another year of my life in rehab.

Adrian excused himself to leave before he was late for some meeting, but he promised to visit me at home the next day. Not long after he left, my doctor came back to proscribe my pain meds, instructed me that my physical restrictions were not to go beyond lifting under five pounds, and scheduled an appointment for three weeks from that day.

With all that madness out of the way, I was released from the hospital's care. Robyn brought me hange of clothes from home sinceI had arrived naked upon admittance, and we took a taxi home.

It was late, and I was so exhausted when we got home that I almost didn't notice the plethore of flowers littering my apartment. They were gorgeous and fresh, and bursting with color, but my mind only went to Alexis's "gifts".

My mother read a few of the place cards. They were mainly from Adrian, though some were from neighbors, and even Vincent and Angel Allende had sent some pretty daisies.

But I'd have to admire them when I wasn't about to pass out.


	10. Mayonnaise Is Not An Instrument

**WOOO! Update! Sorry about the long wait, I lost this document and started to rewrite it but then it suddenly showed up all nice and completed so here you go. I take full responsibility. Thanks for your patience and I hope you still review for meeee! Thanks to all my reviewers and subscribers so far! Truly, I love you guys!**

_Another day inside my world_

_Im married to you and this road_

_A road that never lets me sleep _

_Theres no way to escape these demons i am forced to keep_

_But then i find ...you here_

_Through your eyes everythings clear _

_And im home inside your arms _

_But im alone for now_

_I mean the best with what i say_

_It doesnt always sound that way_

_I never learned to work things out _

_Cause in my family all we ever seem to do to is shout_

_But then i find ...you here_

_Through your eyes everythings clear_

_And im home inside your arms_

_But im alone for now ...alone for now_

~Safe Place by Staind

Two weeks later and the pain had lessened considerably. I was still sentenced to minimal manual labor once I went back to work at Giraldi's despite how eager I was to return to normality. Robyn flew home to take care of Dad after many tiresome hours of convincing her I was physically and emotionally competent enough to be on my own again.

Technically I wouldn't be alone, having more visits from neighbors and wellwishers than I ever expected, which quite frankly was exhausting. Only when Adrian came to see me did I feel some peace.

I would let him in with a smile, blushing at the chaste kiss he'd place on my cheek as a greeting. The visits were short- he was busy and I knew that, but with each passing day I found myself craving his company even more.

He came over late that night so I started to boil some water in a kettle for tea, leaving him for just a moment with Lucifer whom he had grown uncharacteristically fond of. I daresay I was a bit jealous but I wasn't about to dwell on it.

From the cabinets I took down my two favorite tea cups just as the water began to bubble. I stepped back to close it up again when a paralyzing wave of sheer terror washed over me for I swear on my life I truly believed I saw Alexis looming over me once again with a cold, mocking cruelty that I never knew existed.

The cups slipped from my trembling hands and smashed to the floor and I began to cry. I never remembered when Adrian instantaneously appeared at my side, swept me up bridal style and carried me to my room where he held me gently without saying a word as I wept into his chest.

The tears eventually drained away and I could breathe steadily again yet I clung to his form, afraid to pull away. The salt water had dripped on his shirt, staining the soft material.

"I saw her." I croaked miserably. "I could feel her there with me-"

He began to gently stroke my hair. "She's gone, Jack. She can't touch you anymore. It's just you and me now."

I didn't answer. She may be dead but the horror she wrought was far from over. Years from now, the psychological damage dealt would wake me from gruesome nightmares, screaming at the top of my lungs no matter how much therapy I underwent.

"Jack." he said ever so softly, yet it almost sounded strict, as if he was commanding me to listen.

I looked up at him, damn near ready to cry again but the idea was quashed when his lips met mine. I returned the advance with tears still clinging to my lashes and we fell unceremoniously back onto the bed with an unfamiliar heat between us.

There was so much much sweetness in this gesture, so much comfort that for s long as this moment lasted, there was no Alexis. Every kiss proved that she never existed- there was no possibility of it.

His kisses trailed to my throat and I bit back a moan, arching my body to be closer to his. He paced both hands on the curve my hips and slowly ran them upwards pulling the cotton dress over my head and tossed it aside, forgotten.

Blindly I fumbled with the buttons on his own shirt, trying not to let the taste of his skin distract me, but my buttoning skills proved inadequately slow for him when he effortlessly ripped the material away, exposing his bare chest. It was too much.

I rose up hungrily and pulled myself into his lap, feeling him hardening in response to the slow grinding of my hips. A roaming hand found my hooked latch of my bra and unclipped it to join the other discarded clothes, no longer offending our mutual desire to be closer, to feel the heat of each other's desperate lust and the need to satisfy it. My arousal spiked

He rolled me on my back again, a little to roughly for my still-unmended ribs and I winced at the mild pain. Adrian saw my reaction and was ashamed. "Forgive me."

He began to pull away and I panicked and snatched his wrist to stop him. "I can't... not if you don't finish what you started."

Without hesitation he was on top again, kissing me deeply, harshly, pouring all his want and need into his sweet touch. Within moments we were both completely bare, nipping and scratching at tender flesh and soothing the sores with a flick of the tongue.

His swollen head brushed against my slick womanhood and I moaned. God, I was so ready for this, so desperate to have him I would given anything if the son of a bitch would just take my-

Wish granted. With on motion he was inside me, thrusting slowly, torturously at first, then quickened his rhythm, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. I was on the edge of an orgasm for what seemed like hours, like he was purposely holding me there just to watch me squirm. When I finally climaxed I cried out, practically singing my beautiful release to him. He immediately spilled into me and shuddered into my arms, breathing ragged.

Adrian rolled over and pulled me close to his chest, placing feathery kisses on my lips and whispering to me in German until he fell asleep with his arms around me.

I didn't surrender to slumber quite as easily. For a while I just stared at the ceiling and thought about many things, both good and bad, all the while stroking Adrian's hand which was resting on the curve of my hip. I gave him one last look before I let go of my thoughts and allowed myself to rest.

For the first time in a long time, I really smiled.


End file.
